I’m about to comfort Mari, to tell her that we will find a solution, when Wes texts me back:Glad you made it! Figuring it out—will let you know in an hour.But in an hour we’ll be on the train to Sorrento, without Wi-Fi. And my parents, who so kindly pay my phone bill, would swiftly not be paying my phone bill any longer if I turn on roaming and rack up astronomical international charges. I need to buy a SIM card, and fast.
“Google says you need to file a missing bag claim with the airline.” Anya scrolls through her phone, then gets up. “Here, I’ll help you.”
“While you guys do that, I need to grab a SIM,” I say.
“What? Why?” Anya pivots and shoots me daggers. “Can’t you use Wi-Fi?”
“Sure, now, but we won’t have it lots of the time.”
“So? What’s the big deal?” Anya prods.
“You know how my parents are! Regularly checking in was a condition of coming on this trip.” My mouth starts to get dry. She’s onto me. I’ve always been a shit liar.
“We’re going to miss the train, Sora. We’ve already paid for the tickets, and we still have to take the Alibus shuttle to the station. All the trains for the rest of the dayare sold out. I do not want that money to go to waste. And Ireallydon’t want to have to take the bus to Sorrento.” Anya, almost six feet tall and a notorious motion sickness sufferer, towers over me as she pleads her case.
“We won’t. I’m going to be quick—once we are in Sorrento there won’t be any convenience stores like this. I’ll be gone less than five minutes. I promise!”
“Okay. Five minutes,” Anya concedes.
I run off before she can detain me, leaving my big suitcase sitting next to Anya’s. I sprint to the first shop I can find and rifle manically through the electronics section. Everything is picked over—a side effect of peak season. I find the hanger where my compatible SIM card should be stocked but it’s empty—sold out. The salesclerk notices me searching and points down the corridor to another shop.
“Grazie!” I shout, taking off again.
I check the time—two minutes have passed. We should still be okay. I blow into the second shop and am pleased to find the electronics section has a much bigger inventory. Everything is misplaced and strewn about randomly, however, and I am forced to sift through every item. By the time I find the SIM card I’m looking for, there are five people in line ahead of me. Shit, shit, shit.We will really be cutting it close. It’s 1:10 p.m. and I start to get a sick, churning feeling in my stomach as I inch closer to the register. I pick a spare shirt off the table for Mari in case she hasn’t yet found her suitcase. A moment later, I grab three cannoli from the cooler as well, because sugar always softens badnews. Finally, I reach the register and throw the items on the counter along with a stack of euros before leaving in a mad dash to get back to my friends, not even bothering to grab my change.
Running as fast as I can, I dodge strollers and swerve to avoid wayward tourists. I glimpse my reflection in a mirrored elevator door—oof. It’s not pretty. I look like a madman, my dark, curly hair wild. Anya and Mari are standing by the exit when I return, poised to sprint out of the starting blocks.
“I made it!” I wheeze as we speedwalk to the waiting shuttle. “Any luck, Mari?”
“No, but they said they’ll deliver it to our hotel as soon as it arrives,” Mari says as we board. “It’s okay.” She shrugs, always able to see the glass half full. “It will show up. Could be a lot worse.”
Anya glances at her wristwatch as the doors slide shut, settling back into her seat. She exhales dramatically. “Everything is okay. I think we’ll make the train.” Her face relaxes as the shuttle lurches forward on the short ride to the train station.
“Told you I would be fast!” I grin proudly, hugging my backpack to my lap, still panting from my sprint. All is going to plan—I have my SIM card, and we are still on schedule.
This is our first official glimpse of our surroundings, and we press our foreheads to the glass, eager to drink it all in. Through the windows, Naples reveals herself, ascolorful as she is chaotic; this is a city not merely jam-packed with people, but withlife. Loved ones embrace outside the Arrivals terminal with bouquets of flowers, laughing, crying, every emotion in between. The airport is flooded with tiny cars honking as they try to inch their way through gridlock. Arms flail out of windows as drivers yell at their neighbors, blaming each other for the congestion. I can only assume the loud Italian we’re hearing are cuss words, and the especially bad ones at that.
It’s entertaining until our bus screeches to a halt. Our previously pleasant-seeming, egg-shaped driver stomps out toward the car that cut him off from merging, flings open the offender’s door, and pulls him from his seat.
“Oh my God.” Mari clasps a hand to her mouth as our driver grips the other man by the collar.
“What are they saying?” A deep crease appears on Anya’s forehead.
“I can’t tell.” But every minute the driver spends outside is a minute closer to missing our train.
Mari gnaws on her inner cheek, her tell anytime she is worried and stressed.
Finally, another woman on the shuttle loses all patience, stands up, and bounds down the stairs. She starts swinging her purse and yelling at our driver in Italian until he relents, sheepishly finding his way back to his post.
The remainder of our ride is thankfully uneventful, but by the time we get dropped off, it is 1:50 p.m. Making the train will be tight, but we’re still hopeful.
We soon realize, however, that we hadn’t accounted for time needed to navigate a new train station in a language none of us understood. We stare up, overwhelmed, at the large list of city names on the departures screen. Every five seconds the letters flutter and rotate, replacing the posted destination cities. We try to make sense of where we need to go as hurried travelers swarm around us.
“I think we have to go that way?” Mari points to the left just as Anya points to the right.
“Should we ask someone?” I suggest.
Anya leads the way toward the information desk. After a short exchange with a cheerful Italian woman with a scarf tied around her neck, we finally figure out where we need to go. We take off, swerving around every obstacle as we frantically attempt to make our train, until the three of us are standing on a desolate platform with no train in sight.
